Living, Loving and Learning: A Tale of Two Dragons
by HowDracoGotHisGrooveBack
Summary: Draco's orderly existence at the Dragon Reserve is upended by Harry Potter's arrival. Meanwhile, a dragon struggles to fly. A Draco POV remix of the delightful Living with Dragons by fantasyfiend09 (remixed with permission).
**Hello everyone!**

 **This fic is a remix/reinterpretation of an existing fanwork and was created for a fest on LJ. It can be read as a stand alone, but I would absolutely recommend the original which is lovely and very, very well written. Please do check it out: Living with Dragons by fantasyfiend09. You can find fantasyfiend09 on Livejournal.**

 **This fic was remixed with the original author's permission and I make no claim on the plot or any of the original characters. Or dragons.**

 **Warning(s): Mature slash (not fit for minors), some angst. Also features Original Characters (not mine) and Original Dragons (also not mine).**

* * *

Three sets of footsteps plodded across the damp earth, heading for a small enclosure on the far end of the Reserve.

Zhi rubbed her chapped hands against her denims. The very picture of quiet competence, her wand was raised and her sharp eyes were trained on the entrance of the cave. She took position at the far end, silently claiming the role of back up.

Draco returned the gesture with a grateful nod. After three months in Romania, he still couldn't say he got along with his colleagues at the Reserve but he confessed to a grudging respect for Zhi. The woman was a wonder with dragons and he'd learned tons just by watching her.

Dave? Not so much.

"Okay, Dragon Whisperer," the American recruit announced cheerfully as he skipped alongside Draco. "Do your thing."

Draco scowled— partly at Dave's insistence on that absurd nickname and partly at his loud, jarring tone.

"Inside voice, _please_ ," he hissed, giving the man a sharp nudge. "Are you trying to get us roasted alive?"

"Sorry," Dave replied cheerfully, loudly. He moved out of Draco's line of vision obligingly. "Go on, charm his scales off. I'll go see if Zhi needs backup."

"Zhi is the backup," Draco groused, but Dave was already bounding back to their distinctly unimpressed colleague. It was just as well. Dave was a bit of an acquired taste and Thuban didn't do well with strangers.

Draco turned his attention back to the cave. A shadow moved inside, retreating further into the darkness. Draco caught the shimmer of white scales, followed by a warning growl.

Thuban was antsy today.

"It's just me," Draco said, approaching cautiously. He kicked the dirt about a bit, making sure to announce his presence. "I came to say hello, Thuban. Do you want to say hello to me?"

"That's far enough, Draco," Zhi called, ever the voice of caution. "Ten paces at a time, remember?"

Draco held up a hand to silence her. Inside the cave, Thuban growled in displeasure at the new voice.

"That's Zhi," Draco explained patiently. "Zhi and Dave, remember them? They were part of the team that rescued you. They're our friends."

"Buddy, you can't be serious." Dave's amused snort of laughter carried forward and Draco cursed, wishing he could hex him. Even the trainees knew that dragons didn't appreciate being laughed at. "No way he understood any of that."

His flippancy earned them an offended snarl, followed by a sudden burst of flame. Draco cast a Protego in record time but Zhi cursed a blue streak, then turned around and smacked Dave on the head.

"Ow!" Dave yelped.

"Idiot," Draco muttered.

Thuban responded with another huff. This time, he sounded almost amused. Leaves crunched inside the cave. Draco froze as Thuban turned his head to observe all of them. Not for the first time, his breath caught at the sight of those unearthly, rainbow irises.

"There we go," he murmured gently. "There you are, Thuban. Do you want to come out now? Maybe show Dave how wrong he is?"

"There's no need," Dave squeaked. "Dave knows how wrong he is."

"If you don't shut up, I'm talking to Charlie and having you demoted to Trainee status," Zhi threatened.

Draco ignored them. Thuban was finally moving, making his way into the open. When an Antipodean Opaleye graces you with his presence, you donot look away.

And then he was out, leaving the confines of the cave to tower over them. Thuban raised his head towards the sun, blinking slowly. When he'd had his fill, he lowered his gaze to observe the small company that had dared to intrude on his solitude.

Dave inhaled sharply and Zhi made a quick bow. Draco kept still and watched, entirely aware that Thuban was studying him in turn.

The dragon turned his massive head and blinked, rainbow-hued eyes flickering in the weak sunlight. He stretched his pale neck and raised his head. He'd kept his posture tense, but his talons retracted. A warning, sans the aggression. That was definitely an improvement from their previous arrangement. After a month and a half, the Opaleye had finally started identifying them as 'caregivers, keepers of food' as opposed to 'pesky insects, good for roasting'.

He was still small for his age, though. Draco frowned as he noted the dragon's stunted growth. Smuggled hatchlings rarely reached their full potential and Thuban had certainly suffered during his short stint with the poachers. He still remembered when Charlie and Pavel had brought the dragon to the Reserve. An underfed and understandably vicious little thing, snapping and snarling at anyone in range. Pavel nearly lost a finger that day and even Charlie— the resident veteran— couldn't escape a few singes. Draco had barely finished his Training at that point, but the seniors were already on overtime after Migration Season. Long story short, Thuban had become his project and for the first time in his life, Draco was entirely responsible for the well-being of someone other than himself.

A month later, he had to admit that he'd done a fine job. Thuban was thriving and— a noticeable lack of social skills notwithstanding— he was as healthy as he was ever going to get.

"Draco."

Zhi's soft voice broke into his reverie. "Would Thuban mind if we took a few notes now? We'll only be a minute or two."

This was why he liked Zhi. She was clever enough not to presume familiarity with the dragon, instead choosing to redirect her question to him. Of course, he liked to imagine that Thuban trusted him the most but it was still nice to have it acknowledged.

"Thuban?" he enquired, turning back to the dragon. "May Zhi approach? She's a friend, I promise."

Thuban settled back on his haunches and observed a tree branch keenly, affecting an air of disinterest. It wasn't outright disapproval though; that was good enough. Zhi made quick work of her task, firing spells from a distance to catalogue weight, measurements and wing span. Dave hovered behind her, making notes.

"He's definitely looking better," she murmured half to herself as she made rapid calculations. "He's at a healthy weight, good shine to the scales…"

Draco wisely hid a grin behind his hand as Thuban preened. The dragon arched his back, displaying his shiny scales.

Ruddy show off.

"I still haven't got a read on his wing span," Zhi went on, giving Draco a meaningful look.

Right. That little detail.

"How about it, Thuban?" Draco coaxed, with a genial smile. "Do you want to take a quick swoop around the Reserve?"

Thuban yawned and laid his head on the ground. Shimmering eyes observed them disdainfully for a moment or so, and then they closed. One last huff signalled that the dragon was asleep.

Draco's shoulders slumped. "Right," he sighed, "not today."

Dave gave him a sympathetic look and tucked his quill away. "Looks like we're done here," he announced. "Anyone up for a jaunt to the village? I'm starving."

Zhi pursed her lips and gave Thuban a disappointed glance, but pocketed her wand without protest. "Go on ahead," she told Dave. "I'll join you in a bit."

"Great!" Dave grinned, "I'll save you a seat!"

Draco rolled his eyes as he vaulted over the fence and took off, leaving him to follow with Zhi at a more sedate pace.

"You know he's posturing for you, right?" he said, as soon as they were out of the enclosure. "Will you please just have dinner with him before he gets himself killed?"

Zhi side-eyed him. "Thuban isn't flying," she informed him, deftly changing the subject. "Migration Season is starting. Another month or two and he won't be leaving the Reserve at all. And that's not even accounting for the fact that he's shown no interest in the females. At his age, he should be seeking them out but all he does is hide in his cave."

Draco bit back a sharp retort— a habit he'd carried over from his Hogwarts days and one that was bloody hard to give up, as it turned out. "He's had a rough time of it," he replied instead. "The best way forward with Thuban is to let him pick his own pace. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that pushing a dragon to do what it doesn't want to is the stupidest…"

"You're good at what you do," Zhi cut in gently, placing a cautious hand on his arm, "but you can't keep him here, Draco."

Draco glared at her. "I'm not _keeping_ him here," he spat, shaking her off, "and I'll thank you not to tell me how to do my job."

If she was hurt by his sudden antagonism, she didn't show it. She just shrugged and turned to walk away. "Charlie is looking for you," she called over her shoulder. "He said it's important."

Draco glared at her retreating back for as long as he could.

* * *

The one thing that always cheered Draco up without fail was the sight of Charlie Weasley drowning in paperwork. When he entered Charlie's office, his unlikely former mentor was twirling a quill while staring longingly out of a window.

"How are forms twenty nine to forty six treating you?" Draco asked cheerfully.

"Don't start," Charlie groused, signing off on another tour permit. He tossed the parchment on the growing pile on his right and muttered darkly under his breath.

Ah, yes.

Summer meant tourists, and tourists meant yet another revision of safety standards and competence reports. Personally, Draco thought that if some snotty teenagers were actually stupid enough to try hand-feeding a Norwegian Ridgeback they deserved to get eaten, but Charlie was something of a killjoy with all his we need the donations, Draco and this helps teach people that dragons aren't monsters, Draco and no Draco, you can't train the ferrets to bite small children, I don't care how annoying they are.

Spoil sport.

"I, for one, had a great day," Draco prattled with blithe enthusiasm. "You'll be happy to know that despite the utter incompetence you subject me to on a daily basis, Zhi and I are holding the fort while you're off field duty."

"What about Dave?"

Draco's silence lasted an entire twenty seconds. "You'll be happy to know that despite the utter incompetence…"

"Okay, okay. I get it." Charlie shook his head and cracked a reluctant smile. "How's Thuban doing? Is he flying yet?"

"No, but we're making progress," Draco replied swiftly. "He's still a moody little sod but he's getting better."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Migration's in full swing," he commented. "He's got maybe a month, month and a half…"

"He's doing fine," Draco repeated, a tad tetchily. Why was everyone so critical of his dragon today?

Charlie, to his credit, let it go. His eyes drifted back to the heap of parchment. "I can't wait to get out of here," he muttered. "One more week, and then Pavel can take over."

"We could use you out there," Draco informed him. "You and Pavel both. Yesterday, The Fireball hatchlings broke out of their pen and had a little joyride over the village. Okello nearly did his nut. He said it would have never happened if he had a few more trainees on lookout duty."

Charlie's response was a tired grunt. "You don't have to tell me about the staffing situation. We're supposed to have four wizards per dragon. We can barely manage two, not counting volunteers."

Draco shrugged. Charlie and Pavel ran the Reserve, staffing was their problem.

Charlie set his quill down and swiped a tired hand over his eyes. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," he said. "I've…hired Harry. He joins us next week."

An odd sense of foreboding crept up on Draco. He quickly schooled his expression. "Harry who?"

Charlie gave him a flat look. "How many Harrys do you know, Draco?"

"I know one," Draco replied, trying and failing to keep the bite out of his voice. "Fascinating character. He tried to smuggle a Ridgeback hatchling out of Hogwarts when he was eleven. I was led to believe we frown on that sort of thing."

"Given how that little incident ended, I figured you'd be less than eager to bring Norberta up," Charlie belted back. There was a smile in his voice that suggested he didn't sympathise with eleven year old Draco and his…less than ideal crisis management skills.

Twenty one year old Draco however, was older, wiser and not one to give up without a fight. "Charlie…"

"Draco," Charlie cut in, and his voice was firm now. "You of all people, should know that we only judge people by skill here."

Draco bristled indignantly and Charlie held a hand up.

"You said it yourself. We're short staffed, we need more hands. I know Harry. He's a good kid. You've had…issues in the past and I expect you to work around them. Make no mistake, I've had the same talk with him. He's willing to give it a go if you are."

There was nothing for it. He could be belligerent about this. Hell, he could even threaten to quit. Charlie would probably cave, given that Draco was an experienced— and not to brag—extremely talented Dragon Specialist, and Potter was a rookie with as much experience as a first time tourist. If it came right down to the wire, he would stay and Potter wouldn't set foot in the Reserve, Draco was sure of it.

But was there a need for such drastic action?

Potter was part of the reason he'd left England in the first place. Potter was why he was here, in the middle of nowhere, building his life from scratch. A life he loved. The dragons, the Reserve…they were his home now, a part of who he was. And Draco was not going to be driven out of the life he'd painstakingly built for himself just because Potter wanted to try his hand at dragon wrangling.

He was staying, and if he had to deal with Potter again and be civil to that smug, arrogant tosspot then so be it.

"Draco?" Charlie tapped the desk sharply, trying to get his attention.

"Fine," Draco snapped tersely. "So long as he stays out of my way, I don't care one way or another."

Charlie looked pained. "Yeah, that might be a problem."

"What?" Draco hissed. He had a feeling he knew what Charlie was going to say and he wasn't going to like it.

"We're putting him up at your place. The lodge is packed what with tourist season coming up and…"

Draco didn't stick around to hear more. But he did leave Charlie with a perfect summation of exactly how he felt.

"I hope you spend all summer filling out those bleeding forms. And I hope they're in _triplicate!"_

And then he stalked out of the office, making sure to slam the door behind him.

Charlie shook his head. "Yeah," he muttered. " _Thuban's_ the moody one…"

With that sorted out, he picked up his quill and filled out a Probationary Training cum Employment Form.

Harry James Potter, the document said. Hired with immediate effect.

* * *

That evening, Draco visited Thuban again.

The dragon greeted him with a friendly growl. He scented the air carefully and shuffled out of the cave, observing the sack in Draco's hands covetously.

"Tonight's special is dead ferret," Draco announced, tossing the sack over with a grimace. "You're welcome."

Thuban ripped the sack open with a careless swipe. Draco watched with morbid fascination as the dragon reared back and let loose a stream of fire, charring his dinner in seconds. Thuban proceeded to attack the smoking mess with gusto, gulping down ferret after ferret.

"Everybody's asking about you, you know," Draco commented, sitting on a rock. Contrary to popular belief, approaching a feeding dragon was actually safer. Thuban was distracted enough not to care about the intrusion in his territory. Draco watched him for a while, mulling over his thoughts. "They're worried about you. They say you should be flying and hunting by now, that you should be preparing for Migration."

He chuckled when Thuban responded with a contemptuous snort.

"If it makes you feel any better, I told them to bugger off," he conceded with an amused smirk. "You're fine just the way you are. Some of us…well, we just want to be left the hell alone, don't we?"

Thuban paused and lifted his head, regarding him with keen eyes. Draco took a chance and reached out, stroking the smooth scales with a careful hand. Thuban's coiled body shifted under his touch and Draco felt a giddy sort of wonder at the sensation. Was there another wizard in the world who could claim to touch a dragon and walk away with his limbs intact?

The answer came to him before he even phrased the question in his head.

"Potter."

Thuban cocked his head at the unfamiliar word. Draco sighed and patted his flank reassuringly.

"It's alright. It doesn't change anything. It's still you and me against the world. We're fine. We'll do just fine on our own, yeah? Like we always do."

Then again, if there was one thing Potter excelled at, it was proving him wrong. Draco sighed and tossed Thuban another ferret.

There was nothing for it but to wait. Wait and see what the coming week would bring.

* * *

 **A week later:**

"Draco! Your flatmate's here."

Jens' cheerful holler accompanied a series of loud knocks, jolting Draco out of his stupor.

Great. Potter was here. And he was early, blast him.

Draco squared his shoulders and approached the door, mentally scolding himself for dragging his feet. He was not seventeen any more, and he had no reason to shy away from an unpleasant meeting. He had slogged and toiled and earned his place here. He was Potter's equal — if not his superior— in the field and Saviour or not, the prat was not going to intimidate him.

Not that he was looking to start something— he had given Charlie his word, after all— but if Potter was looking for a fight…well, Draco wasn't seventeen and scared of his own shadow anymore. With that thought, he swung the door open, preparing to meet whatever was on the other side with his head held high.

Vivid green eyes stared back at him, earnest and unassuming.

Ridiculously enough, Draco's first thought on seeing his old school rival was a passage from Chapter One of The Resourceful Dragon Keeper's All Purpose Manual:

 _"When dealing with a dragon (or any unfamiliar and potentially dangerous magical creature) the first rule is to maintain eye contact. A frank and open display is the surest and safest way to survive such an encounter. The complex socio-hierarchies of dragons are highly dependent on body language. Eye contact helps establish a friendly dominance— something every dragon keeper should aspire for in the field..."_

Potter coughed in the awkward silence. Draco startled and blinked, causing him to— naturally— break eye contact.

Crap.

Not…that Potter was a wild, dangerous animal.

And he likely wouldn't mistake Draco for an evening meal and try tearing him to bits.

And Draco was hardly looking to…dominate Potter in the social hierarchy.

Or elsewhere.

This metaphor was starting to fall apart.

"Potter," Draco greeted hastily. "Karlsen," he added, spotting the older man behind Potter.

"You be nice to him, Draco," Karlsen chortled, shouldering past him into the flat. Potter, to his credit, waited outside politely. "It's good to have new faces up here, and he's a lot friendlier than you are."

Well, Draco couldn't argue with that.

"Think you can handle settling him in?" Karlsen asked. "I need to close up shop before dinner."

"I suspect we'll manage," Draco replied. No point in delaying the inevitable, after all. He would have to get used to sharing his home with Potter some time.

Karlsen agreed and said his farewells, but not before wheedling out a promise from Potter to visit his broom shop sometime. Draco saw him off, and then it was just him and Potter.

"So, um…where do I sleep?"

Potter's question was softly voiced and surprisingly polite; certainly not the entitled, brusque demand that Draco had expected.

He turned to look at Potter again. He hadn't changed much, but then how much time had really passed since the War? Six months? Seven? It was hard to keep up with time out here. Now though, as he looked at Potter— Potter with his scuffed shoes and his shabby denim trousers, with his messy hair and that frank, oddly open expression— Draco was struck by just how much he had left behind.

And now, Potter was here to remind him of it. To remind him of how far he'd fallen and how alone he truly was. Potter would never really let him forget, now that he was here.

"This way," he said, perhaps a little sharper than he'd intended. "You saw the sitting room and kitchen. Next is a bath. You're the third, and I'm at the end." He spoke rapidly as he walked, not looking back to check if Potter was following or not. Still, he could hear footsteps padding after him and he duly stepped in front of Potter's designated bedroom.

He was woefully unprepared for Potter's delighted grin and the joy that lit up in his eyes. "It's perfect," Potter exclaimed, looking awestruck.

Draco frowned and scanned the very ordinary room again. Had he missed something? "Mine is bigger," he said, if only to reassure himself.

Potter barked out an amused laugh. "I'm okay with that," he grinned, shaking his messy hair out of his eyes. "Really, you deserve it, Draco."

Draco? Since when were they on a first name basis? And why was Potter laughing at him?

"Surprisingly perceptive of you, Potter," he replied, as disdainfully as he could manage.

"What? No 'Harry', Draco?" Potter teased.

Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. What exactly was Potter playing at? He turned his back on the man and stalked off, making for the safety of his own room. He was halfway there when he remembered Charlie's orders: escort Potter to Bârlog so he could meet the rest of the team over dinner.

Draco groaned and swiped a frustrated hand through his hair.

 _More socialising._

 _Fan-bloody-tastic._

* * *

Dinner in the village was a simple affair. There was one pub, and as the only establishment within a fifty kilometre radius that served decent Firewhisky, it was usually chock-full of researchers and tourists.

Inexplicably, Potter seemed to delight in the lack of dining options and ambience. Now, Draco had certainly learned to appreciate the simpler things in life. After being dragged to the pub by Dave at least twice a week, he had even come to enjoy Bârlog's quaint, homely charm. But he certainly hadn't expected the same from Potter.

Nonetheless, Draco made quick work of the introductions, then settled back to watch Potter take it all in. After all, nobody here knew Potter as anything but Charlie's friend and 'the new guy'. He would be hard-pressed to play the Saviour card with Pavel or Zhi. Draco was rather interested to see how Potter conducted himself with a group that didn't know and more importantly, didn't care about his hero status.

"So, Harry," Okello said, waving his wand and Summoning another bottle of Ogden's. "Charlie tells me you've worked with dragons before."

"He did?" Potter glanced at Charlie, looking surprised.

Charlie winked cheekily and answered by draining his glass.

"Well, not exactly," Okello confessed with a grin. "He did mention a little something about the Triwizard Tournament though. If you don't mind my saying so… you're mental, mate."

Draco rolled his eyes.

 _Here it comes. Let's all sit around and applaud Potter for nearly getting himself killed. Again. Anyone with even a rudimentary knowledge of Hungarian Horntails would have steered clear of the eggs, or at least attempted to make eye contact before entering her territory. But does anyone care about that? No, let's all celebrate precious Potter's complete disregard for his own safety…_

"Actually," Potter began carefully, "if I knew then what I know now, I would have done things very differently."

"Oh? How so?" Okello leaned forward and the rest of the table was silent now, waiting for Potter's answer.

"Well," Potter said with a grimace, "to start with, I probably wouldn't have been stupid enough to directly approach a nesting Horntail. Looking back on it, I really wish I had read a few books or something because Merlin, that was an idiotic thing to do."

"It certainly was," Zhi agreed firmly. "You're lucky you got out alive."

"Still wicked, though," Dave put in, patting Potter's shoulder in a comforting fashion.

Potter smiled but it was clear he was uncomfortable with all the attention. Deftly, he changed the subject by asking Zhi about the Incubation Chambers at the Reserve. The table lapsed back into conversation soon enough.

Draco however, mulled over what he'd heard in silence. Potter had just admitted that it was stupid and dangerous to rush headlong into dragon territory. In fact, he had sounded almost embarrassed at his younger self's reckless actions.

The notion was…interesting, to say the least.

He spent the night watching Potter talking and laughing with the rest of the group. When Potter excused himself and left, Draco followed him without another thought.

It was only when Potter turned to him with a teasing grin and asked "Come to tuck me in, Draco?" that he realised what he was doing.

"I've come to make sure you don't mess the flat up the first night," he responded hastily. Potter raised a sceptical eyebrow but made no protests.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek and stalked off.

This was the second time he had tripped over himself around Potter. And the man hadn't even been here a full twenty-four hours yet.

Draco quickened his pace and didn't look back until he was home.

* * *

 **Three weeks later:**

Draco huffed as he trudged up the hill, following the sounds of Dave's off-key whistling. The shrill sound echoed in the quiet surroundings, punctuated only by the impatient shrieks of the Fireball hatchlings. It was quiet out in the hills, which meant that any wild animals in the area had already fled. That was a good thing.

Fireballs were picky eaters, and they most certainly preferred a live hunt to the sheep carcasses the Reserve provided. Feedings could be tricky and since it was just him and Dave out here with two flighty mini-dragons, they had to be on top of their game.

"How are the kids doing?" he asked.

Dave turned back to the Warded cage behind them. A series of rousing screeches echoed from the interiors and the cage rattled violently. A flame flared bright for a second, lighting the insides of the shelter. Draco caught a glimpse of leathery red wings, flapping impatiently.

The hatchlings were hungry.

"Just give me the word, and I'll let 'em out," Dave reported uneasily.

"In a minute," Draco replied. "Let's go over the rules first, yeah?"

To his credit, Dave made no wisecracks this time. He obligingly stepped out of Draco's way, giving him ample space to approach the cage. Just to be sure, Draco cast a strong Shielding Charm on his person before peering inside.

There were two Fireball hatchlings in the cage. The male, Feng, was a dash smaller than his sister, Jiao but they both had their mother's red scales, gold spikes and black wing patterns. Their dark, intelligent eyes observed him suspiciously. Feng reared back with a tinny growl. At this age, they barely reached Draco's waist but one careless snap and he would most assuredly lose a finger.

The good news was that hatchlings were more malleable than a full grown dragon. It was a bit like lecturing rowdy children.

Attitude was everything.

"Feng, Jiao," Draco said, making sure to keep his voice clear and firm. "Do you want to come out now? If you behave yourselves, we can go hunting."

Of course, 'hunting' meant Levitating chunks of meat while the dragons flew about and snapped them out of the air, occasionally charring their food. The hatchlings loved the hunting game and it was a great way of developing their flying skills. Nevertheless, Draco was always careful to present it as a reward for good behaviour.

Sure enough, Feng chirped his approval and Jiao stilled in covetous anticipation. Draco fought back a chuckle. It always amused him how much the haughty hatchlings acted like eager little children when they wanted a treat.

"Very well," he went on, still speaking firmly but gently, "but no flying into the village this time. If you disobey, I'll be very cross. And no biting Dave either."

"Thank you," Dave called from behind him.

There was a bit of belligerent hissing, but ultimately the temptation of hunting was too much for the young dragons. With negotiations out of the way, Draco stepped back and released them. They hurtled out, almost trampling over him in their haste to take to the sky. Soon, the hills were alive with the delighted screeches of young dragons swooping and hurtling through the air.

Feng stretched his wings and followed his sister's trail, chasing her playfully before banking to the left. Dave followed their flight path with an appreciative eye.

"Now that," he declared, "is something you don't see every day."

Draco nodded, his eyes trained on the sky. Nothing beat the thrill of seeing a young dragon fly. There was something so right about it…so natural.

"Kind of makes you wish Thuban would take a crack at it, huh?"

Draco scowled at him and Dave raised his hands in a gesture of placation. "On a totally unrelated subject, how's the new guy doing?"

The question caught him off guard. "Potter?" Draco blurted. "Why would I know how Potter is doing?"

"Well, you do live with him," Dave retorted.

Oh, right.

Draco went back to keeping an eye on Jiao and Feng. "Fine," he offered shortly.

"Yeah? So what's he like? He seemed decent enough at dinner that one time."

What was Potter like? Trust Dave to ask him the one question that had confounded him for seven years.

"He's…eager to start work," Draco offered evasively.

It was true enough, after all, and a whole lot better than he makes a mean fry-up or I can't stop staring at his hipbones.

What? It wasn't exactly a _hardship_ having a young, attractive man walking around the house with just a towel on. Draco hadn't encouraged it but he saw no reason to stop it either. And it wasn't like he planned to do anything about it. Potter was pretty enough but Draco was his senior and anyway, the bloke was clearly not interested.

All he cared about was the dragons, and frankly, that suited Draco just fine.

Life was complicated enough without adding temptation to the mix. Potter was off limits and that's the way it had to be.

"Well," Dave's voice broke into his thoughts, "let me know when he's ready to join the team, yeah? We need another pair of hands out here— especially if Thuban's not leaving anytime soon."

Draco nodded and went back to watching the hatchlings. Up in the air, Feng screeched joyously and tackled Jiao, wrestling with her for a bit before hurtling off again. And if the sight made something in his chest twinge painfully, he chose to ignore it.

* * *

"Why do we have to spend so much time talking about rocks and sheep? I want to see dragons!"

Draco sighed and rubbed his temples, trying to will away the headache.

This was all Charlie's fault. He'd finally managed to get off desk duty and naturally, he took the first opportunity to head out and settle a row between two Ridgebacks, abandoning Potter in the process.

Potter, who by the way, was heartily sick of studying terrain and grazing patterns and just wanted to a see a dragon already.

Draco was reminded of a persistent Crup— the kind that wouldn't stop tugging at your trouser leg until you took it for a walk. Not to mention that Potter had the large, pleading eyes to help that mental image along…

Draco was horrified to find that he was having a hard time saying no to said pleading eyes.

And now Potter's whinging was reaching migraine inducing levels, so if Draco was a bit short with him, he really didn't think he should be blamed.

"And how do you suppose we do that, Potter?" he snapped. "They aren't Crups who come at a whistle or a call. They are the largest, longest-lived, and most dangerous of all magical creatures. They are highly intelligent, and they do not want to be found and gawked at by impatient upstarts. What we are _doing,_ because you clearly fail to appreciate the significance, is learning where there are possible nesting sights, where food sources are, and where potential hoarding lairs may be. We are learning how to _find_ the dragons."

Potter remained mutinously silent for a spell, and Draco presumed he was gearing up for a row. Oh well, it had to happen sometime. They had coexisted peacefully for a whole month and a half now— so much so Draco almost enjoyed coming back to a home that wasn't cold and empty. Naturally, it was high time for Potter to act out and remind him that they couldn't be anything but sullen acquaintances.

Inexplicably irritated, Draco turned away to stomp off.

"What's your favourite type of dragon?"

Draco stopped in his tracks. When he turned around, Potter was staring intently at him, with that damnable earnest look in his eyes. When had it become so difficult to stay mad at Potter?

"When I was young, I liked the Peruvian Vipertooth," he explained suspiciously. "I even tried to get Father to buy me one. They are fast and vicious, and as a child, I couldn't imagine anything could matter more."

If Potter noticed the way his voice hitched on mentioning Father, he didn't mention it. "And now?" he coaxed.

Draco's lips quirked in a half smile. He really didn't need to think about it. "The Antipodean Opaleye," he said decisively. "Their social structures are more complex than any other dragon and they venture the furthest from their homeland." He spoke quickly and surely, the way he always did on the subject of Thuban. An impulsive thought seized Draco and he made the offer before he could even think it through. "We have a few here at the reserve. Would you…like to meet one?"

Potter's eyes widened in anticipation and Draco felt a trickle of unease travel up his spine. He had never made such an offer before, not once.

But there was something about Potter's eagerness to see a real dragon that appealed to him. There was real dedication behind his impatience, a thirst to reach out to these ancient and glorious creatures and understand what made them tick.

He'd seen that look in Potter's eyes before. He'd seen it in the mirror, a long time ago.

* * *

Later that night, as Draco put a pot of stew on the hob, his mind refused to cooperate. Try though he might, he couldn't stop thinking of Thuban.

And Potter.

Their meeting had been uneventful, thank Merlin. Thuban showed very little interest in anything that wasn't Draco or a sack of dead ferrets anyway. And Potter had shown great restraint and taken Draco's advice to heart. He'd been careful with his body language— making all the right gestures and keeping enough distance. Thuban had given them a few precious minutes of his time, and retreated back in the cave. At the time, Draco had chalked it up as a success and left with Potter.

Now though, his mind was playing on an infinite loop. He recalled the enchanted look in Potter's eyes, the way his breath hitched as he stood face to face with the magnificent dragon, the breathy laugh that left him as soon as they were at a safe distance.

"Thank you," Potter had whispered, looking at Draco with shining eyes. "I just…that was amazing. He's like nothing I've ever seen. Thank you for showing him to me."

Salazar damn it all.

He was falling for Potter, wasn't he? Damn it all, he was falling hard. Draco cursed and stirred the stew viciously.

Surely, he wasn't this much of an idiot! Potter could have anyone he wanted. He was Potter, for Merlin's sake! He was funny, generous, attractive— so very attractive — and he would obviously make a brilliant Dragon Handler someday. Hell, even Thuban couldn't find fault with him, and that was saying something. There was no plausible reason for Potter to bother with someone like Draco.

And Draco…Draco needed to get this ridiculous attraction under control. He was no better than Dave, pining over someone who didn't want him.

"Draco?"

Draco startled so badly, he nearly upset the stew. Potter padded over, concerned and worried. His hair was still wet from the shower and the faint scent of pine wafted over. At least he was wearing an ill-fitting jersey and track pants. Draco supposed he should be grateful for small mercies.

"I'm so sorry," Potter murmured, "I didn't mean to…Draco? Hey, what's wrong?"

Draco hadn't even realised he was backing away. Merlin help him, what was wrong with him? "I…nothing. Everything's fine," he blurted. Potter nodded and made to approach again, prompting him to take another automatic step back. Potter halted and a surprised, hurt look flitted across his face.

Damn it.

This had gone far enough.

"I just forgot to mention I'll be gone for a week or two."

He was thinking as he spoke, and Edward's letter was the first thing that crossed his mind. They weren't close, but he was tolerable, as far as cousins go. Besides, he had invited Draco to his summer home. Yes, this could work. He would get away for a few days, clear his head…maybe get over this ridiculous infatuation.

"Oh," Potter replied, sounding puzzled. "That's…okay, I guess? I just thought...I was hoping to finish training this week and I figured you'd…"

"Dave will take over for me," Draco cut in. He refused, absolutely refused to feel guilty about the obvious tinge of disappointment in Potter's voice.

"Have a good trip then," Potter said softly. "I guess…I guess I'll see you when I get back."

Draco nodded tersely and headed for his room. He shut the door and threw the covers over himself, resolutely ignoring the sounds of Potter clearing up their uneaten dinner.

Come tomorrow, he would be gone. And if he was lucky, he would know what to do by the time he came back.

* * *

At the crack of dawn, Draco made his way to the Reserve to say one more goodbye. Above all else, dragons were proud creatures. Thuban wouldn't forgive him easily if he left without a proper farewell.

The dragon was outside, watching the faint glimpses of dawn spread across the sky. He looked speculative, as if contemplating some great mystery Draco couldn't possibly hope to understand. A cold wind blew and Thuban arched his long neck in pleasure, flaring his wings to catch a draft.

Draco coughed to announce his presence. The dragon cocked his head enquiringly and turned to him, watching intently as he entered the enclosure.

"Hello," he said softly. "I just came around to make sure you were okay."

A derisive noise, almost like a snort of laughter. Draco's lips quirked.

"I know, I know. You're right. I'm the one running away, not you."

Thuban's response was a yawn. He turned his head and one shimmering eye observed Draco. Reckless though it may be, Draco extended a hand and grasped one of Thuban's razor sharp talons. The claw felt hard and smooth against his palm, roughly the size of his whole hand. Absently, he noted that he was damned lucky Thuban allowed him these liberties. Anyone else would probably have their arm sliced off by now.

"It's still you and me against the world, mate. Just…take care of things here until I get back, okay?"

Thuban turned his head to stare at the sky. The sun was rising, bathing the hills in weak, golden light. The dragon huffed in contentment, stretching his limbs to bask in the warmth.

It was the kind of thing most people only saw once in a lifetime, if they were lucky. Draco made sure to capture every second in his head. It would have to do until he got back.

With that thought, he swung his satchel over his shoulder and withdrew, preparing to make the long trek to the village.

* * *

 **One week later:**

Zhi was waiting for him at Karlsen's. As soon as Draco had finished with returning the broom and thanking the older man, she greeted him with a brisk hug.

Draco was relieved. They hadn't really spoken since that spat, and he was thankful that Zhi wasn't the kind to hold a grudge. As they made their way back, she filled him in on all the happenings at the Reserve.

"You missed the beginning of tourist season. I'm assuming that was planned."

Draco chuckled. She didn't seem to disapprove. If anything, she sounded disappointed that she hadn't thought of it first. It was good to be home. Draco relaxed and let his mind wander, enjoying the familiar walk back and occasionally tuning in to Zhi's succinct reports.

"…not as bad as last year," she was saying. "We've got some researchers coming in from the European Magical Creatures Institute next week. But we have a group coming in from Italy before that, so get some rest while you can."

"Enough about the ruddy tourists," Draco groaned. "Tell me about stuff that actually matters. How are the dragons? How's…"

 _Potter._

Draco bit his tongue just in time. So much for getting the man out of his head…Potter had pretty much set up camp there. Hell, even Edward had commented on how preoccupied Draco was.

"…everything," he finished lamely.

Zhi didn't seem to have noticed his little slip. "Dave and I have been overseeing the hatchlings," she reported. "They're finally learning to glide. If they keep this up, they'll be ready to leave the Reserve halfway through Migration."

Draco grinned, feeling like a proud parent. Little Feng and Jiao would be flying away this season. Just knowing that he had something to do with it made it all worthwhile.

"Although they've got into this annoying habit of not eating their food unless we throw it at them," Zhi added, raising an eyebrow and giving him a pointed look. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"Not a thing," Draco lied glibly. "What about Thuban? How's he doing?"

Zhi faltered a bit. Draco slowed down with her instinctively. He watched in growing consternation as she avoided eye contact.

"Zhi?" Draco prompted, feeling justifiably alarmed now.

"We've had some developments," she admitted. She sighed and turned to face him again. "Please don't freak out."

By now, Draco was seriously worried. "What's going on?" he demanded urgently. "What happened while I was gone?"

"Dave and I took care of it and he's fine now, I swear."

"Zhi, start talking," Draco barked.

"Thuban got into a fight with one of the Ridgebacks. She barely grazed his wing but…"

That was all Draco heard. Panic seized him and he turned to run.

Zhi watched him bolt for the Reserve with an exasperated sigh. Then she picked up the satchel he'd abandoned and trudged after him.

* * *

His sides were splitting and his heart was hammering but Draco made it to Thuban's enclosure. Charlie was there, perched on a log at a safe distance as he observed the dragon. Thuban, thankfully, seemed fine— if a tad sullen. There was a tear across his right wing, but it was mending nicely. Draco sagged in relief.

It could have been so much worse.

"He nearly ate the Healer," Charlie said, not bothering to turn around, "and burned down approximately ten percent of the forest. Nobody throws a tantrum like an Opaleye."

"What the hell happened?" Draco demanded angrily.

"Thuban here," Charlie explained, "got into it with Sheba. There was a…disagreement."

"A disagreement?" Draco echoed incredulously. "She nearly skewered him! What was she even doing here? The Ridgebacks nest way up in the hills!"

Charlie hummed thoughtfully. "That's the interesting part," he explained. " _She_ didn't come after him. He went after her."

It took Draco a minute to process that. "He…what? What do you mean _he went after her?"_

"Exactly what I said," Charlie replied patiently. "She was circling the old hunting grounds and Thuban noticed. He followed her flight path for five minutes and next thing we knew, they were trying to tear each other to shreds."

Draco shook his head helplessly. None of this was making sense. Thuban wasn't aggressive, not by a long shot. And that wasn't even the strangest part of this story.

"He flew?" Draco clarified, still not sure if he should believe it. "You're telling me that he left his cave and…and flew?"

Charlie cracked a smile at that. "Well, by dragon standards, it's hardly impressive. But, yes. He left his territory voluntarily and even interacted with another dragon, albeit not very well."

"And he's alright?" Draco insisted, because that was the only thing that mattered as far as he was concerned.

Charlie clapped his shoulder. "Would I lie about one of our dragons?" he asked with a smile.

That was a fair point.

Draco turned to watch Thuban again. Was it just his imagination or did he look bigger than before? Draco could have sworn that when he left, Thuban was a smallish adolescent. He was still lean, but there was no mistaking the wider wing span or the long arc of his tail. Thuban was growing.

And fast.

"He might make it for Migration after all," Charlie commented.

Draco whipped around to face him. "You think so?"

"Draco, he's done healing. He's ready to move into a world beyond his cave. It's how things should be. You know that, don't you? You…you wantthat, right?"

Charlie looked sympathetic now and it made Draco scowl resentfully. He, of all people, should know of all the work Draco had put into Thuban's care. Why did they all act like Draco needed this broken to him gently? He was a professional, for Salazar's sake! Taking care of dragons was hisjob. Of course he wanted Thuban to heal.

Of course he wanted him to get better and…and leave.

To fly off into the sunset, maybe never to return.

Draco's shoulders sagged. Thuban had been his first real connection after the War. The first person, so to speak, he'd reached out to. Perhaps, the only one.

And now…

"I know," he whispered.

Charlie squeezed his shoulder and withdrew quietly, heading back to the lodge.

Draco waited until his footsteps faded and then he climbed over the fence and approached Thuban. The dragon screeched in complaint on spotting him and Draco smiled slightly.

"I hear you had an eventful week."

Thuban huffed and dangled his injured wing meaningfully, apparently demanding sympathy. Draco patted one clawed foot.

"I'm sorry you got hurt," he said gently. "But you know it won't always be like that, right? In fact, believe it or not, but most dragons actually prefer not to spend all their time in a dark cave."

If Thuban cared either way, he didn't show it. He folded his hind legs and settled down belligerently, making growling sounds deep in his throat. Draco supposed it was the dragon version of muttering under one's breath.

"You really shouldn't have picked a fight with Sheba," he remonstrated. "That's not how we make friends, Thuban."

A shadow flew above their heads. Draco looked up, just in time to see a Ridgeback circling overhead. The dragon— female, most likely, considering that the only two males had left early in Migration season— took a few rounds in the sky before heading for the forest. Thuban raised his head to watch her go. He made a sad, little trilling noise and coiled his tail tight around his body. Draco frowned. Thuban looked…almost forlorn.

Oh.

Not so much a fight as a rejection, then.

"Sheba," he sighed. "Way to go for an older woman, mate."

Thuban ignored him. He was still gazing up in the sky longingly, craning his neck to peer into the distance. His wing flapped feebly, like he wanted to follow. Draco patted his foot in a show of solidarity.

"Well," he reasoned, "at least you're doing better with your crush than I am with mine."

Thuban's answering snort suggested that this wasn't much of a comfort. Draco was hard-pressed to disagree.

* * *

In the coming week, Draco realised that he was right and then some.

Not only did Potter _not_ reciprocate his admittedly complicated feelings, but the man actively disliked him now.

What the hell had happened?

When he had left, Draco had gone with the assumption that Potter liked him at least a little. They had lived together for almost an entire season and nobody had been injured or maimed. Draco was almost tempted to term their arrangement a success— so much so that he was willing to keep it up in the coming season too. Potter had been friendly, pleasant, willing to take his lead in all matters dragon related. He had certainly shown signs of tolerating Draco's company, if not outright enjoying it.

Now, it appeared that Potter couldn't stand being in the same room as him. Four months ago, this wouldn't have been much of a surprise but now? Draco admitted— if only to himself— that he was confused and maybe even a little hurt by Potter's sudden turnabout.

He'd sulked all through dinner when Draco was telling the team about Edward, his small but tasteful home in Morella and his love for French wines. He scowled and resolutely stared out the window when Draco brought up their short trip to the Pyrenees to track a rumoured migration of Ukrainian Iron Bellies. When Draco told everyone about how they had to share a sleeping bag because Edward forgot to pack a spare, Potter stabbed a potato with a fork.

It was all very confusing.

Potter's sulking lasted well into the week, only to be inexplicably lifted when Dave had asked Draco how 'his favourite cousin' was doing. After that, he was all smiles and sunshine, whistling a jaunty tune as he cast Cleaning Charms across the Vipertooth enclosures.

A resigned Draco abruptly decided that he would never truly understand Potter.

Then, things got worse. The group from the European Magical Creatures Institute arrived. Normally, Draco preferred researchers to tourists. They were sensible enough to not get roasted alive if he turned his back for two minutes.

But, the roster had a name on it which he remembered all too well.

Luna Lovegood wasn't the absolute last person he ever wanted to see, but she came too damn close for comfort.

Draco would have gladly run off to Spain again, except Edward had decided to join his lovely wife for a quick vacation in Cypress, the blighted bastard. He turned a deaf ear to Draco's entreaties, but he did help a little. Apparently, his old schoolmate Rolf Scamander was a magi-zoologist and part of the entourage at the Reserve. Draco remembered Rolf from some of his more engaging summers as a child.

That, at least, convinced him not to Disapparate on the spot.

If Rolf was around, things might turn out alright.

And for a while, they were.

Well, at least until Potter got all moody again.

* * *

Everything was fine at first.

Rolf arrived at the Reserve with the rest of the entourage and he was still as pleasant and amiable as ever. After an evening or two at the pub, Draco actually started looking forward to the week ahead.

He even mustered up the courage to apologise Lovegood. She turned out to be surprisingly forgiving about the whole 'being locked up in the Manor dungeons' thing. This only reinforced Draco's suspicions that she was a few splinters short of a wand, but he was grateful nonetheless.

Of course, it was Rolf's presence that alleviated the somewhat awkward atmosphere. It took Draco five minutes to realise that his friend was smitten with Lovegood. It was an amusing enough development and he actually allowed himself to enjoy himself as they set out to track for new nests.

Then, it happened.

"Are you trying to bed Rolf?"

Draco gaped uncomprehendingly as Potter stomped over to him, glaring for all he was worth. It took him a moment or two to realise what exactly he was being accused of.

"I spend time with Rolf because he is good company, Potter," he retaliated, just as heatedly. "I'm not a dragon that only seeks company to copulate."

"I notice _he_ gets a first name," Potter countered.

What the hell was this about?

And that's when it hit him.

Potter's stupid hero instincts were acting up again. He was trying to protect Rolf from the nasty ex Death Eater. Draco's fists clenched. Well, at least he knew now. Potter really did hate him. Why else would he act this way?

"Because I've known him since I was a child!" he argued angrily. "He's friends with my cousin Edward. Don't worry, I won't taint the innocent researchers."

He turned his back on Potter and started to walk away. Let the git take the researchers back to the Reserve. Draco was obviously not wanted here. And if Potter's obvious disgust for him was painful in a way he'd never experienced, Draco had no intention of letting the prat know that either.

"Besides," he yelled over his shoulder, "if you had any observational skills at all, you'd be able to see that he's completely arse over tit for Lovegood!"

And with that, he stormed back to the Reserve, not bothering to look back again.

* * *

 **A week later:**

Speaking of young love, Thuban had clearly chosen the object of his affections too.

Draco smiled as he turned his eyes skywards, watching as the dragons flew overhead. Sheba was clearly the better flier of the two, and she was out to impress. Draco shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun, watching as the Ridgeback swooped low and skimmed across the hill ridges. She screeched triumphantly, challenging Thuban to best her.

Thuban flared his wings and let loose a stream of fire. His growl echoed for miles around as he blazed after Sheba, meeting her wing for wing. He cut across the sky in a magnificent arc, his white wings gleaming in the sun.

Draco held his breath, almost unable to believe what he was seeing.

This was the sullen, reclusive hatchling he'd watched over for so many months. This was the culmination of all his efforts.

And it was spectacular.

The two dragons tangled mid-air, but this was more of a play fight. Sheba growled and made a half-hearted swipe with her sharp talons, which Thuban artfully dodged. This time, when he passed her and flew away, she followed him.

"That's my boy," Draco murmured to himself.

"He's magnificent."

Draco started and nearly lost his footing. Rolf moved fast. He grabbed Draco's wrist before he toppled off the hill and pulled him up.

"Thanks," Draco muttered as he righted himself. "I thought you left this morning."

"Luna wished to stay a little longer," Rolf explained. He grinned and scrubbed his hair awkwardly. "Fascinating woman."

Draco's lips quirked. "Yeah, 'fascinating' is…well, it's close enough," he conceded.

For a few peaceful moments, they watched the dragons flying overhead. Then, Rolf decided to ruin the moment.

"Do you remember that summer we spent together at Edward's family home? We charmed your robes to smell like skunk spray right before a formal ball."

Draco rolled his eyes. "As I recall, I returned the favour. Let's just say green is not your colour."

Rolf threw his head back and laughed. "Yes, you were a vicious little bastard," he agreed, giving Draco a good natured shove. "And look at you now."

"What about me?"

"What about you?" Rolf echoed incredulously. "Look at what you've done! Look at that!"

Thuban blazed across the sky, swift and sleek. Draco couldn't help but smile wistfully at the sight. "I suppose it's something to be proud of."

Rolf clapped his shoulder. "Believe me, Draco. You've done a wonderful job here. And, I think I already know the answer to this but I'll ask anyway…would you consider joining me on an expedition to the Amazon? We could do some great work in the field."

Draco watched as Thuban disappeared over the ridges. He was just a small speck now, flying further and further away. Soon, he would leave and then…well, the Reserve could spare Draco for a season, right? It was a great opportunity, and Rolf would be fun to work with. Not to mention all the experience he would get…

Even as he rationalised it, Draco knew the answer.

"Thanks, but no. I work with dragons. That's who I am and…well, I'm happy here. It's where I belong."

Rolf nodded. "I figured you'd say that," he offered, "and if you don't mind me saying so, I think some people here who would really miss you if you left."

"Yeah well, Dave and Zhi will get over it."

He wasn't prepared for Rolf to throw his head back and laugh. "Oh, Draco," he chuckled, shaking his head. "How you can tell the exact age, weight and wingspan of a dragon from a week-old set of tracks and still not see what's right in front of your face…it's truly baffling."

"What?" Draco blurted. "What in the world are you…"

Rolf waved him off with another chuckle. Draco stared in bemusement as the man squeezed his shoulder and started to walk away.

"Think about it," he called over his shoulder. "Oh, and thank you for refusing to take me up on my offer. I'm heading out with Luna tomorrow. We'll send you a postcard!"

As Draco watched him saunter off, he couldn't help feeling that he was missing something.

He was still turning Rolf's cryptic words over in his head when he realised he'd made it all the way back home. Draco groaned and scrubbed a frustrated hand through his hair.

Lately, he'd made a habit of avoiding Potter. That spat in the hills had soured things between them and while Draco tried not to hold a grudge, it was still hurtful. By now, he had practically resigned himself to harbouring these intense feeling-type…things for Potter. He was also painfully aware that his crush was only half the problem. If the only thing he wanted was to shag Potter senseless, his life would be so much easier! But, even that— desirable though it may be— was just not enough anymore.

For the first time in his life, Draco wanted more. He wanted to wake up next to Potter, to watch him putter about the kitchen, to spend late nights in front of the fire with him studying his chicken scratch notes. He wanted a life with Potter. He wanted to be with him, and he wanted Potter to want him back and perhaps, most of all, he wanted to think of him as 'Harry', not 'Potter'.

And then, reality would come crashing back and remind him that the last time they spoke, Potter had accused him of trying to seduce Rolf, of all the absurd notions.

Now, here he was, waffling about at the door of his own flat, torn between running from the man he wanted so much it hurt, and barging in anyway because this was _his_ house and if anyone should leave, it should be Potter.

"Fuck! Draco!"

The shout startled him so badly, Draco nearly stumbled.

What in the...?

Potter!

Instinct took over and —before he could even consider what a shout in an empty house in the middle of the day could mean— he was charging into the house and heading for Potter's bedroom with his wand raised.

As it turned out, Draco wasn't the only one easily startled by loud noises.

Potter was in bed, stark naked. He had seemingly frozen in shock, what with Draco's sudden intrusion in…what was obviously a very private affair. Potter stared at him, wide-eyed and horrified, frozen in shock and on full display as a pink— yes, pink— sex toy slid inside him.

If it was happening to anybody else, Draco would have laughed himself to death.

But confronted with the image of Potter's lean, tanned body and the obscenely hot scene unfolding in front of him, he was aware of just three things: the hammering of his pulse, the stirring in his pants and the niggling sense that Potter was still gaping at him in horror and that Draco should look away now.

"Stop," Potter whispered, and the dildo mercifully did.

Draco swallowed and tore his eyes away, fixating on a spot on the floor. His mouth felt dry and the tips of his ears were burning. He didn't dare move, and yet, the alternative was standing here, wondering which one of them would succumb to death by mortification first.

"I'm sorry. I heard a shout," he blurted, because Salazar, it wasn't like he could possibly make this worse. "I thought you were…"

"Wait!" Potter blurted suddenly. He held a hand up, as if to placate Draco and keep him from bolting. More fool him, because at the moment, Draco had pretty much forgotten how his legs worked. Potter swallowed and drew his sheets up. Draco kept his eyes firmly on the floor. He just couldn't make himself leave. And he really should, because Potter had every right to hex him…

"Come in, please."

Oh. Okay, then.

Draco took a step forward, still aiming to keep a respectful distance between them. "I'm sorry," he offered, just in case Potter had somehow missed it.

"It's not your fault!" Potter reassured immediately. "I should have used a Locking charm."

That…was hard to argue with. And now, that he thought about it, there was something else that warranted an explanation. "I heard my name."

Potter blushed and picked at his sheets. "Yes," he replied. His voice was barely a whisper.

"You were thinking about me with a dildo up your arse?" Internally, he winced at the crudity of his question but Draco couldn't bring himself to care. After what he'd seen and Potter had said his name…if there was even the slightest chance…

"Yes," Potter affirmed, and Draco's world tilted on its axis.

He was moving now, approaching Potter on instinct rather than intention. It was like the pull of a magnet. Except this was much stronger. This pull went deep— right to his bones— and Draco knew he couldn't have stopped even if he wanted to.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes."

Oh Salazar, this was happening. Potter wanted him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Draco asked. His tone had gentled, possibly a response to Potter's deer-in-headlights expression. It was doing things to him, things he could barely understand. All he knew was that the idea of hurting Potter in any way, especially now, was…well, it was unthinkable.

Potter didn't reply. But he drew the sheets away and stood up. Draco took a deep, shuddering breath as Potter approached him, standing so close that his bare skin brushed against Draco's rough denims.

"I want you," he breathed. "Please.

And Draco was lost.

He pulled Potter closer and then soft, full lips were pressed against his own and toned muscles were shifting under his hands. Potter was warm and lean and pliant in his grip, and when Draco pushed further to test the waters, he gave in beautifully. They tumbled back on the bed, still exploring each other and Merlin, Draco's nerves were on fire.

This was amazing. It was so much better than he'd imagined. Potter bucked against him, his cock brushing the rough fabric of Draco's jeans and eliciting a throaty groan that made Draco's pulse skip. He hissed and fumbled with his own clothing, divesting himself in record time.

When his fingers dipped lower, Potter threw his head back. Draco was more than happy to take it as tacit permission. He groaned as he slipped a finger inside Potter. Merlin, he was still slick from…before and the memory of Potter's body sliding wantonly over these sheets with that dildo thrusting in and out of him…

"Inside you," Draco gasped out. It wasn't so much a request as a warning, but Potter was definitely on board.

He raised his hips and Draco positioned himself, sliding home in one smooth motion. Oh Merlin, but Potter was so ready for him. Long legs wrapped around Draco's waist and Potter threw his head back, clenching his fists in the covers. Soft, needy moans escaped him, spurring Draco on. When he wrapped his hand around Potter's cock, he jerked in his grip. Draco adopted a steady, determined pace and just when he thought he was going to lose himself, Potter came with a howl.

That was all it took for Draco to lose himself. One thrust, then two and then he was coming, spilling deep inside Potter.

"Merlin," he gasped. It took everything he had to move away and let Potter go before he collapsed on top of him. They lay side by side, hearts pounding. Draco moaned and stretched his aching muscles, trying to make sense of the world around him.

When he turned his head, Potter was smiling. His eyes fluttered open, soft and vivid green. His lips quirked and he lifted a hand to push Draco's hair out of his eyes.

And that's when Draco knew that he was in love. Completely, madly, deeply in love with Harry Potter.

Damn it.

Potter's eyes shut and he turned over, sliding out of Draco's arms and over to the other side of the bed. Draco tried to ignore the flash of pain in his chest.

Of course.

This was all fun and games to Potter. Why would it be anything else? He could have anyone he wanted. Draco was just…convenient. They lived together, worked together, maybe Potter even thought of him as a friend, but to hope for something more?

That was madness.

And even though it hurt, Draco knew he would go through with it anyway. Because, even if he could only ever have this, it was better than not having Ha-Potter in his life at all.

He would just have to make his peace with it.

And he would. After all, Draco was no stranger to unhappiness. It was just the story of his life.

Potter hummed in his sleep and curled up under the sheets. Draco watched him for as long as he dared. Then, he collected his clothes, dressed and stole out of the room. When Potter woke up, they wouldn't speak of this.

And as much as it hurt, Draco had to admit that it was for the best.

* * *

 **One month later:**

It would be any day now.

Draco took a deep breath, relishing the cold, refreshing sting of a real winter breeze. He was on one of the old observation platforms, watching the dragons fly across the reserve.

Thuban's flights were becoming longer. He rarely stayed in the enclosure anymore and his cave had been empty since August. Draco suspected that he was visiting the Ridgeback nests in the hills with Sheba. They were clearly a pair now. Sheba's demeanour had gradually progressed from irritability to wary friendship to fondness— or whatever qualified as fondness in a dragon's perspective. And Thuban…well, Thuban was clearly head over heels for his new lady.

If Draco wasn't so amused by the whole thing, he would be embarrassed for him.

Right now, he was watching as the two circled the hunting grounds, on the lookout for stray sheep. Under Sheba's supervision, Thuban was growing into an adroit hunter, and he left no opportunity to show off his new skills. Sheba encouraged him vociferously, probably because Thuban made it a point to share his kills with her.

It was all rather sweet, in a vicious kind of way.

And judging by the signs, it was just a matter of time now.

When dragons prepared to Migrate, they signalled their departure with three signs. They found a mate for the season, they increased their feeding to twice the normal intake in preparation for the long journey, and finally, when they were absolutely ready to leave, they burnt down their enclosures.

The last was a decidedly inconvenient practice, but that's nature for you. Thankfully, the Reserve was heavily warded and protected against wildfires. They wouldn't last a season if they didn't know what they were doing.

Draco had been watching closely and as far as he could tell, the first two signs were already in progress. Thuban hadn't left Sheba's side in weeks and he was certainly eating more than usual.

Well, apparently that was that.

"Draco! Down here!"

Draco blinked as Dave waved frantically to get his attention. Wonderful. Another season had come and gone, and Dave still hadn't learned to keep his voice down. Draco rolled his eyes and started his descent.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," Dave began. He grabbed Draco's arm and started herding him off. "Pub, now. I'm spending my last day here in style."

"Last day?" Draco echoed. "Where are you going?"

Dave stopped short and stared at him. "Um, home? To the States? I'm not sure you've noticed but the dragons are all gone. We're not exactly needed here anymore, are we?"

"Oh. Right."

Draco followed Dave, somewhat bemused. He'd become so used to not having anywhere else to go that he'd almost forgotten that the others didn't share his unique circumstances. Of course Dave would go home for the winter. And Pavel and Zhi…everyone had a home and a family to go back to. Hell, Charlie's was practically a tribe.

And of course, Potter would leave too.

Draco resolutely ignored that train of thought. "Sorry I've been so preoccupied," he said, clapping Dave's shoulder. "It was fun having you here."

"Well, it was fun being here," Dave replied good naturedly. "You know, I never thought I'd do this with my life. But…here I am, and I know I'll be back next season."

"That's good to hear," Draco said, somewhat surprised to realise he meant it. Dave had sort of grown on him, these past few months. "And hey, if it means anything, I think Zhi will be sad— or at least, mildly disappointed— to see you go."

He was a bit surprised when Dave chuckled. "About that," he explained, scrubbing sheepishly at his hair, "Zhi and I…well, we've sort of been together for a while."

"What?!"

Dave looked altogether too pleased with himself. "Yeah, it's great. She's coming with me, I'm actually hoping to introduce her to my folks this Christmas."

"Wow. That's…I mean…" Draco shook his head, searching for the right word. There wasn't one. "I just…I don't get it. She was so…"

"Unattainable? Out of my league? The Firebolt Deluxe to my Cleansweep Seven?" Dave prompted.

Draco chose silence. Nobody deserved to be compared to a Cleansweep. Dave however, seemed more amused than offended.

"It's not that I disagree. In fact, most of the time I just made an arse out of myself around her because I never thought I had a shot. But…I don't know. One day, she just said Dave, either grow a pair and ask me out or piss off. But don't expect me to wait around while you sort yourself that's when I stopped playing and really…spoke to her. And it's been great. To tell you the truth, I'm scared witless of her but she's the only one for me."

"Wow," Draco managed. Dave grinned and shrugged, and he couldn't help but return the smile. "Well, I'm happy for you. If it works, it works, you know?"

"Truer words were never spoken," Dave agreed solemnly.

As they set off to borrow the brooms from Karlsen, Draco spotted two swift shadows flying across the night sky. A screech echoed in the hills, a roar followed.

Thuban and Sheba. Dave and Zhi. Charlie and Pavel. Probably. Draco had his suspicions, none that he dared to voice out loud.

But still. Everyone had someone and Draco had…a steadily growing complication.

He thought about Potter, about their arrangement, about the two nights they had spent together since…and mostly, about how he had fallen head over heels for someone who essentially considered him a convenient means to an end.

It was slowly becoming unbearable. He wasn't sure how much longer he could go on pretending, but as long as Potter still wanted him…well, he definitely wasn't walking away.

Draco sighed heavily, suddenly feeling the weight of his twenty years more than ever.

Just a few more days, he told himself. Potter will leave soon. And he won't be back until next season.

And when he did return, Draco wouldn't be here. He would take Rolf up on his offer, or maybe join Edward on a hiking expedition or hell, maybe he'd take up a position at the Reserve in New Zealand. Potter wouldn't care if he left. Thuban no longer needed him. Nobody would miss him if he left. Draco was free.

As he followed Dave— only half listening to his cheerful chatter— he wondered why freedom tasted so much like loneliness.

* * *

 **Later that night:**

"I want to talk."

Draco pulled away slowly. Instinctively he dampened his lips, chasing the warm taste of Butterbeer. Potter's eyes darted to his lips momentarily, and he couldn't help a smirk.

"Well, I don't," he responded, pulling Potter over again. Potter slipped out of his grip and backed away. He was glaring now and the disapproving turn to his mouth sent a spike of irritation through Draco. Well, if Potter was going to be difficult, he sure as hell wasn't sticking around for it.

"Fine! Then I'm going to bed."

He wasn't even slightly surprised to hear footsteps padding behind him.

Stupid, stubborn Potter. If he didn't want to shag, then what did he want?

"If you think you're coming to my room, you had better be planning to please me," Draco warned.

He only felt a little guilty when a pained look crossed Potter's face. "Why won't you talk to me?" he asked softly.

"What on earth are you on about? We're talking right now." He winced internally at how childish that sounded. Still, if it would discourage Potter, Draco was fine with that.

Because this newfound obsession with 'talking' could only mean one thing. Potter had decided to end things. He wanted nothing more to do with Draco. And Draco was going to delay the hell out of that conversation for as long as he could.

"You've been avoiding me," Potter accused.

Oh, good. Turning the tables, making him out to be the bad guy. Despite himself, Draco was impressed. That was an almost Slytherin manoeuvre.

Well, two could play at that game. "I've been busy," Draco lied effortlessly. "We all have been."

Your move, Potter.

We're not busy now."

"No, but I'm tired."

"Too tired to fuck?"

Yes! Finally some familiar ground! Draco grinned as Potter took a step forward. "Well, maybe I can find the energy for that."

"Good!" Potter grinned viciously. "If you have the energy to fuck, you have enough energy to talk."

The sneaky little shite.

Draco dug his heels in and glared defiantly. He wasn't going down without a fight, damn it! "Your logic is flawed, Potter."

"Harry."

Potter scowled at him and clenched his fists. My name is Harry," he repeated coldly. "If you can stick your cock up my arse and eat my breakfast and... and…you can call me Harry!"

Oh, so that's how it was, was it? Did Potter plan to make him confess? Did he expect Draco to show weakness? To admit how much he wished that the distance between them could just disappear? Well, that wasn't bloody happening.

"Fine," Draco drawled, emphasising his feigned disinterest with a shrug. "Harry."

Potter's face fell. The defiance faded, his shoulders sagged. "This means nothing to you, does it?" he whispered. His eyes flashed with hurt. "This is just…I'm just convenient because we live together. I could be anyone."

Wait. What?

"That's not…" Draco began to protest.

"Draco."

Potter smiled a small, pained smile and took a cautious step forward. "I just want you to know that I like you. I like being your friend and the sex is fantastic, but I really like you and…if you ever think that maybe…if you ever think you could want something more…"

Wait.

What did he just say?

"You like me?" Draco repeated. He hardly dared believe it. "What? Like you want to date me?"

Potter hesitated a moment, then offered a firm nod.

Draco blinked. That…couldn't be right. Potter couldn't like him. Potter could have anyone he wanted. There was no way that he could have feelings for Draco.

That was absurd!

Because if…if Potter liked him, that would mean Draco had been very, very wrong about everything.

And that never happened.

"And if I were to let you date me, where would you take me?" Draco asked suspiciously. If this was a trick, if Potter was yanking his chain, he would find out soon enough.

Potter blinked in surprise, but to his credit he recovered at once. "We could go into Sibiu," he offered. "I mean, they've got to have a nice restaurant in the wizarding section somewhere. I'd be willing to try a Muggle place, but I suspect you'd prefer wizarding."

Oh.

He meant it. He really meant it. He really did like Draco.

Draco had been so very, very wrong about everything.

Because Potter was still there, waiting, watching him anxiously. As if Draco was the one with the power to hold or break his heart, and Merlin, wasn't that an absurd thought? Draco's heart raced and he had to fight to keep a smile from breaking out. Not yet. Not until he was absolutely, one hundred percent sure…

"And how would we get there?"

"I could Side-Along us," Potter replied promptly.

"It would be an impressive feat to Apparate that distance and change of altitude alone," Draco mused.

Potter lifted his chin and determination flared in his eyes. "I'm pretty good at Apparition."

And there it was. Cards on the table.

"Fine," Draco declared. "I accept."

Potter blinked. "What?"

"Dinner. I accept. You may take me into Sibiu tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow…wait, what?"

Draco smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Don't make me reconsider, Potter."

"Harry."

"Whatever."

"Wait. Are you saying that you'll go to dinner with me, like a date? Tomorrow night?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes. That was the result of the conversation. And here I thought you were actually paying attention."

Potter grinned like he'd just won the World Cup and Draco fought to stave off the giddy fluttering in his stomach. He could still barely wrap his head around the fact that not only did Harry Potter like him, but that he'd actually been nervous about asking him out.

It was baffling. It made absolutely no sense, and later, when he had a moment to himself, Draco would sit down and have a long, hard think about what exactly was wrong with him. And Potter, for that matter.

But for now, Potter was leaning in for a kiss, and that was priority number one. Draco pulled him over and closed his eyes, shelving all attempts at self-introspection until further notice.

* * *

 **Two weeks later:**

Warm lips pressed kisses down his spine. Gentle fingers brushed his hair back. "Wake up," a voice whispered in his ear.

"Ugh," Draco replied intelligently. He burrowed deep in his covers, cracking one eye open to glare at the heartless person who had dared disturb his sleep. Harry, damn him, wasn't even slightly apologetic.

"Come on, up you get," he urged cheerfully.

Draco hunkered down in response and Harry smiled fondly.

Warm lips traced Draco's ear, making him shiver.

"In my defence," Harry murmured, "you asked me to wake you up."

"Did not," Draco protested, closing his eyes again. "Did not, would not, never."

"Draco," Harry sighed, still sounding patient but ever so slightly exasperated. "Come on, you git. You don't want to miss it, I promise."

"Miss what?" Draco mumbled.

Harry ruffled his hair. "It's time," he said softly.

Draco stilled as the realisation hit. His eyes opened. Harry smiled gently and leaned in, brushing their lips together. It was a comforting gesture.

"Get dressed," he ordered gently. "We need to get to the Reserve. Charlie says he'll be gone within the hour."

When they made it to the Reserve, Charlie was already there, keeping a close eye on Thuban's enclosure.

Or what was left of it.

Draco halted, watching as the last of the fire burnt itself out. The wards had kept it from spreading, but Thuban's former home was a charred ruin. The trees had been knocked down, even the cave was sealed with rocks and boulders.

The scene was unmistakable. The work of a dragon, rendering his former territory unfit for encroachers.

The third sign.

Draco swallowed around a lump in his throat as he turned to Charlie. "So, he's…"

"Ready to Migrate," Charlie confirmed. "He's been pacing about for a while now. I think he's waiting for you." His smile was sympathetic and he clapped Draco's shoulder. "You did a great job with him, Draco. If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't have made it. Now, go say goodbye, yeah? Look for him at the Hunting Ground."

Draco nodded, not trusting himself to say a word.

Harry took his arm and he didn't let go until they were at the Grounds. Draco didn't thank him, but he hoped Harry knew he was grateful.

Thuban was waiting impatiently when they finally reached the Ground. He greeted Draco with a welcoming roar and flapped his massive wings. Overhead, Sheba circled the grounds, occasionally calling out to her mate.

Draco stopped short.

"He's all grown up," he murmured.

Harry wrapped an arm around him. "You did that," he said softly. "And he knows it. That's why he's here. He's waiting for you."

He gave Draco a gentle nudge forward. Thuban cocked his head as Draco approached.

"Hi," he whispered.

Thuban lowered his head to sniff at him. He greeted Draco with an affectionate snort, nudging gently with his snout. Draco smiled and patted his head. His fingers shifted against smooth, white scales.

"Look at you," he murmured. "Fierce, beautiful— just how you were meant to be."

Thuban emitted a pleased rumbling sound and Draco choked out a laugh. "No more caves for you," he mused, half to himself. "You don't need them anymore. Or me, for that matter."

Thuban shifted and Draco retracted his hand. It was time to say goodbye.

"Be safe," he said, "and remember me, yeah?"

Thuban nudged him again and flicked his wings irritably. He seemed to be waiting for a signal, although Draco couldn't imagine what.

He started when he felt warm fingers tighten against his own. Harry stepped forward and greeted Thuban with a polite bow, just like Draco had taught him all those months ago.

"Don't worry," he said, looking the dragon straight in the eye. "I'll look after him until you get back."

Thuban gave him a long, searching look. Whatever he found in Harry's unflinching expression, he seemed satisfied with it. His wings stretched out. Draco held his breath and then, the dragon emitted a deafening roar and took to the sky. Sheba greeted him with a welcoming shriek and then they were off, two dark shadows flitting against the sky.

"There he goes," Draco said, watching as his dragon disappeared over the hills.

"And he'll be back next season," Harry reassured, drawing him close.

"I suppose," Draco murmured. He was no fool. There were no guarantees, especially not with dragons. But he had done right by Thuban, and if there was one thing he'd learnt about dragons— changeable, proud creatures, though they were— it was that they understood loyalty. Perhaps, Thuban would be back next season with his own brood. Or perhaps, he wouldn't.

But as long as he was out there— proud, fierce and free— Draco could live with that.

Besides, he had company while he waited.

"Look on the bright side," Harry added, as if reading his thoughts. His cheeky grin made Draco's heart soar. "You still have me."

"There is that," he conceded. "I suppose you'll do. For now."

He leaned in and silenced Harry's indignant protests with a kiss.

Somewhere high above them, two dragons soared into the unknown.


End file.
